


Too Beautiful For Words

by littlebitlostandfound



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Kid Fic, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebitlostandfound/pseuds/littlebitlostandfound
Summary: After her first day of Kindergarten, Mae struggles with her self-esteem.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Too Beautiful For Words

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've just reblogged this one video on my tumblr (it's the most recent one, on little-bit-lost-and-found) and it just had me bawling. This fic is directly inspired by that and pretty much wrote itself. Kindness and conversation starts at home, and that's something that I really wanted to highlight here.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Mae still hasn’t warmed up to the idea of kindergarten. She wishes that her Mama could just teach her instead, and as much as Cathy wants that as well, she knows that she needs to adjust and interact with children her age.

“This will be fun, you’ll have a teacher and maybe even new friends to play with,” Cathy tries to sound as enthusiastic as she can, kneeling down in front of her by the entrance of her classroom. “And it’s only for a few hours. I’ll be right here to pick you up after, okay?”

Mae nods, and Cathy leans forward to kiss her forehead.

“Atta girl. Come on, I’ll bring you inside.”

Cathy opens the door and introduces her daughter to the teacher, Mrs. Rodgers, and she quickly leads her to her desk with her name tag on the table.

“You have such pretty hair, Mae,” Mrs. Rodgers reaches out to touch her hair, and Mae only smiles before Cathy could reprimand her.

Mae is wearing her hair down, mainly because she loves how much she looks like her mama when she does, and she even let her put a bit of the moisturizer that she uses because today was considered a special occasion.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Catherine, we’ll take great care of Mae here,” Mrs. Rodgers reassures, trying to quell her fears just like she would any first-time parent leaving their child at school.

Cathy looks over at where her daughter is sitting, and a boy comes up next to her and shows her his stuffed lion, allowing her to pet it. She feels a bit lighter at the sight, and she leaves the room before her daughter could spot her.

The boy in question lets Mae hug the lion to her chest, giving it a firm squeeze. He looks between her and his stuffie, giggling slightly.

“Your hair’s the same,” He says, reaching out and pulling gently at one of her curls. She cocks her head to the side at the comparison, and shrugs. She decides that she doesn’t mind. She likes lions anyway.

They go through the motions of introductions and sing-a-longs, and Mae is enjoying the activities with the teacher so far. Mrs. Rodgers calls out for free play, and they scatter around the room, pulling out toys from corners and cubby holes.

Mae takes her favourite rag doll from her backpack and quickly approaches a cluster of blondes and brunettes playing with a dollhouse. She kneels down to join the little circle, not at all noticing how they slowly inch away from her.

“What is that?” One of the girls scrunches her nose at the sight of the handmade plush in her hands, and Mae proudly holds her up for them to see.

“Her name’s Kayla,” Mae smiles, and the girls simply look at it with disgusted looks on their faces. Mae’s spirits dampen a bit, but she soldiers on, bringing Kayla inside the dollhouse and letting her plush arm stroke the back of a plastic alligator.

When she looks up, she frowns when the girls have all but dispersed and spots them huddled around a table near the play area. She gets up from her knees and walks towards them, but they simply ignore her, keeping their backs turned to her.

She quickly questions herself if she was too rough or too mean. Or maybe she had been rude—she didn’t even ask if she could join, she simply invited herself to play.

She straightens up, tapping one of their shoulders.

“Can I play?” Mae uses the gentlest voice that she can muster, tries to channel her mama’s soft soothing. She hears one of them snigger.

“No ugly girls allowed,” One of them says, and the others murmur in support. Mae tries to stand her ground.

“I not ugly, my mama says I’m beautifu’,” Mae fights back, and the whole group laughs at her now, and she squirms at their collective, scrutinizing gazes.

She doesn’t know how to respond, but she refuses to cry. She knows better, her mama knows everything and she knows she wouldn’t lie to her just to make her feel better. But now, when it’s so many people against her, she’s not quite sure of herself anymore.

She dejectedly walks alone to a corner of the room and pulls out a board book, tries her best to sound out the letters like she does at home. Mrs. Rodgers spots her and she approaches her quietly, squatting down to her level.

“Hey, sweetheart. You don’t want to play with the others?” She asks, reaching out to put her hand on her shoulder. Mae sucks her lips in, vehemently shaking her head. She doesn’t push her further, and she leaves her alone with her book and clouded self-esteem.

No one wanted to sit with her during snack time, breaking her heart even further. She still doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong since she’s not making any scenes. As she munches on her crackers, she looks around the classroom and learns quickly that she looks nothing like any of them.

Maybe those girls are telling the truth, after all.

When she spots Cathy peeking through the window of the door while they sing the goodbye song, she’s the first one to get her backpack from her cubby. Mrs. Rodgers stays by the exit and Mae is the first to run out and into her mother’s waiting arms.

“Oh, I’ve missed you! How was your first day?” Cathy smiles, kissing her soundly on the lips. She wraps her little arms around her neck and she obliges with her silent request to carry her, secretly happy that she hasn’t grown out of it just yet.

“S’good.” Mae says halfheartedly, hiding her face in her neck.

“Really? Tell me more, baby. What else did you do?” Cathy follows up, and Mae focuses on telling her what they did as a class and the songs they’ve learned.

“I’m so happy to hear you had fun. Did you make any new friends?”

Mae only hums in reply, not really wanting to talk about that just yet.

“You deserve a treat, don’t you think? Guess what’s waiting for you at home.” Cathy grins, and Mae gasps, her morning’s problems temporarily forgotten as she pulls away to look at her face.

“Cookies?”

“Freshly baked, all for you.”

Mae squeals in delight. 

When the next day comes and she's getting her ready for her second day of school, she asks if she can straighten her hair.

“But why? Your hair’s so pretty,” Cathy frowns. Mae stares at her reflection in the mirror, and she tries to see what the other kids see. Her unruly hair, her snub nose, her dark skin, and she really doesn’t want to be teased again—

“Please, Mama,” Mae urges. Cathy shakes her head, offers a compromise instead.

“How about plaits?” Cathy will try to avoid putting a straightener near her daughter’s head as much as she can help it. Mae lets out a dejected sigh and nods, placing her hands on her mother’s knees beside her.

Cathy sections her hair into two and works on a neat plait, tying a little ribbon at the end. Mae stares at her reflection in the mirror intensely, her eyes wandering and when she sees herself with her hair half done and the little gap between her baby teeth, she frowns deeply.

“I ugly.” Mae states, almost a matter of factly, still looking at her reflection in the mirror. She remembers the mean girls in her class, remembers how excluded she felt, realizes how different she looks.

Cathy’s hands freeze in the middle of working on the second plait, taking in a sharp breath.

“Don’t say that,” Cathy chastises immediately, placing her hand on her cheek to turn Mae’s head, making her look into her eyes instead. “That’s not true. Don’t say that, baby.”

Mae’s bottom lip juts out, almost trembling, and when she sees the corner of her mother’s eyes watering, so sad and worried and disappointed, she lets the dam break. Her little face scrunches up as she wails in anguish, and Cathy quickly lifts her daughter up from her lap and turns her around to straddle her waist instead.

“Oh, Mae, baby,” Cathy keeps her hand at the back of her daughter’s head as she cries into her chest. She pulls her away for a bit to wipe her cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, keeping her face in her hands. “Baby girl, I tell you everyday that you’re so beautiful. You’re not supposed to say that.”

“I am, ‘cause they won’t play w-with me,” Mae manages to admit in between sobs, and Cathy holds her that much tighter, faulting herself for not being thorough enough in choosing a proper school for her daughter. She’ll have to talk to the teacher when she gets there, but right now, she has a broken little girl in her arms, and she prioritizes that first.

“Shh, baby, don’t listen to them,” Cathy’s voice is stern despite the tears rolling down her cheeks, wanting her to know how much she means every word. “You are so pretty. Prettiest girl in the world.”

“Look in the mirror with me,” Cathy coaxes gently, and Mae reluctantly obliges, sniffling as she turns her head to the side, resting her ear on her mother’s shoulder. Cathy shifts in her seat so that she’s sitting cross-legged sideways towards the mirror. “You know what I see when I look at you?”

Mae only shakes her head, and Cathy leans down to press a kiss to her hairline.

“I see a brave little girl with a sweetest smile,” Cathy starts to list down, catching the few tears the escape the corner of her daughter’s eyes. “Big curious eyes. Cutest button nose, curly hair that looks just like her Mama’s. Beautiful chocolate brown skin.”

Mae simply stares into the mirror, seeing her features in a different light. Her mama knows her best, and so she listens. She believes her.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say anything bad about yourself, alright?” Cathy reminds her, and Mae nods obediently, her fingers toying with the fabric of her shirt.

“D’you really think I’m pretty or are you jus’ sayin’ that ‘cause you’re my Mama?”

Her heart wrenches at the complete disbelief in her daughter’s tone, hates how broken she sounds and how quickly her doubt had grown in the span of a day.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Cathy looks into her eyes through the mirror, earnest and and almost pleading for her to believe her. She’s so impressionable at this age, and she never realized how hard it is to shield her from the harsh realities of the outside world.

“M’sorry,” Mae whimpers, and Cathy tuts, smoothing the hair from her unfinished plait down.

“I’m not mad, baby, I’m just sad to hear you say that about yourself,” Cathy won’t tire of reminding her of her worth. She deserves that much. “Don’t let anyone put you down. We look different but that doesn’t mean we’re not beautiful, alright?”

“Okay,” Mae rubs her cheek against Cathy’s shoulder. She nudges her chin with her thumb, coaxing out a tiny gap-toothed smile.

“Oh, look at you, my pretty girl,” Cathy beams, and Mae’s grin widens, giggling as Cathy leans down to pepper her face with kisses. “There you are. Can I finish fixing your hair?”

Mae turns around and plops herself in front of the mirror, allowing Cathy to complete her hairdo. She pulls out her phone and takes a few photos of her and Mae in front of the mirror, and Mae eventually loosens up at her encouragement, making kissy faces as her mother continues to snap shot after shot.

Cathy laughs, relieved to have Mae back to her old self again.

She just hopes it keeps up for the rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> I will never understand what you go through, but know that I stand with you and I support you all the way. You all are too beautiful for words. 
> 
> Urging you all to sign the petitions and donate where you can. Check out this link for a comprehensive list on how to help: blacklivesmatters.carrd.co


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